The Lion and the Unicorn: Terra and Kefka Prompts
by Somnambulista
Summary: This is a series of prompts based off of Terra and Kefka. These are not in any sort of order, and you may find some of them aren't entirely canon. I will be happy to take requests, just send me a message.
1. Please

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. I do not profit from this writing.

**Prompt 001 **

_Please_

He is in her room when she arrives. She is not sure which version of himself he is, and she is scared, but he gestures to her all the same. "Come here," he says. "I want to show you something." His voice is playful, his words edging on that insane hyena cackle she has come to hate.

"What do you need, Kefka?" she asks, careful to keep her distance. He exists within a duality, of that she is certain. There are times when he is the man she knew, and there are times when he is the man he knows. She has learned to tell them apart, but with every day he becomes less of one and more of the other. She wouldn't tell him that it breaks her heart, because the damage has already been done.

When she does not come to him, he begins to come to her. "You're being difficult," he warns her, his voice full of misplaced enthusiasm and amusement. "Don't make me chase you down, now," he warns. He has something behind his back now, and she can see that, but she can't make what it is.

She backs up until the door touches her spine, and she makes a soft noise of surprise. Her cry, however slight, seems to stop him in his tracks, and for a moment she is confused. He smiles and shakes his head, straightening his posture. He then holds up the thing he had behind his back. It glimmers in the light. It is golden with a stone set at the center the colour of the richest ruby.

"Kefka, I..." she begins. She can't find anything to follow it, and her cheeks are hot with shame. She has always been inarticulate and clumsy, and he made her so much more. In his presence, she is still that same girl, though – scared, afraid, alone. She depends on him for so much, and he keeps changing, like the tides in the ocean; never the same wave when he comes back, never the same when he goes.

"It's a gift," he says. "Do you like it?" He holds it closer to her, trying to get her to approach him. She is like a deer, this one. He must be careful.

She finally breathes a sigh of relief. The Kefka that she is afraid of is gone; this is the one that she knows. This is the one that she... "It's beautiful," she marvels. "I have done nothing to deserve this," she says. She is always modest; she feels she has no talent, no ability. She recognizes that she is nothing without him, and this pleases him.

"Nonsense," he sings. "Come closer, dear. Let us stand before the mirror so I can see how it looks on you." He reaches out with his empty hand for hers, and she slowly raises it and places it in his. Her hands are smaller than his; warmer. For a moment, he regrets so much, and then it passes.

She walks to the mirror, the light in the room now focused on the two of them. It is brighter on her, and as he stands behind her, she realizes that in the mirror he seems to fade into the darkness as though he is not really there at all, but a vague apparition of a man that once was. She is correct, but she doesn't realize this.

"Can you?" she asks. She turns to look up at him, and for a moment the fear is replaced by something else in her eyes. It is almost enough to anchor him, and he tries so hard, but then the moment is gone like all of the others and she is smiling and waiting.

"Of course, my darling," he says. He lowers the circlet to her head. Just before it touches her hair, he leans down to whisper in her ear. "This won't hurt a bit," he says. His breath is hot against her neck, and her eyes widen as she realizes that she has made the wrong choice, that he has tricked her.

Her lips form the word "please", her last act of free will, and then there is nothing. Empty eyes stare into a mirror that stares back into them, the word caught on her tongue like a snowflake, melting away with her freedom.


	2. Loyalty

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. I do not profit from this writing.

**Prompt 002**

_Loyalty_

One of the captains looked sidelong at the clown-general, his bushy black eyebrow raised. He'd been on since he was a teenager, and now he was in his thirties. A good servant of the Empire, with an honest living. The vein behind his eye pulsed, causing his eyelid to twitch. Kefka's stillness was inhuman, and it gave him an unease in the pit of his stomach that he could not hide.

"Problem?" the General drawled. The question came as a low grown, but with the drawing of the letters the pitch raised. Even still, the General was still, but then suddenly his head whipped to the right dramatically, twisting all the way to one side in a feat that was seemingly impossible under the physics of human flesh and bone.

"N-No General," he stammered. "Of course not."

Before them, the Elite 50 were lining up onto the field in battle formation. They were just in front of the palace, and the weather was favourable. It was noon, and there was a warm breeze on the air. Butterflies frolicked above the shin-high grass, and birds lined the castle walls to sunbathe. They sat on strange beasts of metal that once resembled horses but had been altered to the point where the idea was all that was left.

From behind them, the doors opened and the heavy thump-shuffle-thump-shuffle with the whining mechanical noise betrayed the protege's presence. The girl, in her eighteenth summer, was incredibly fair of face, with long tumbles of blonde hair pulled up behind her in an intricate ponytail. At the apex of her head sat a golden circlet with a gem centered on her forehead. Her gaze was impassive at best, eyes seeming almost sleepy as she looked up into the sky for a brief moment.

"Terra..." the clown said, his voice laden with boredom. "I've a small task for you."

She directed the Magitek Armor between the two of them, blatantly ignoring the captain and focusing only on Kefka. "Anything," she said. She didn't smile, but the way her voice uplifted, it sounded as though her only desire was to please him. The captain felt nauseous, but said nothing. He had heard rumours of this girl's abilities, but now was the time for proof. Behind them, the entire castle was stuffed to the brim with people watching – every window, every door – they were all pushed open wide as people hung out of them, waiting. They were all waiting for Terra.

"Those men out there?" he prompted her, a gesture with a hand that was rested from a bent elbow on his own technological beast.

"Yes?" she asked, turning her head only halfway to gaze upon them. It was as though she was unwilling to tear her attention from Kefka fully. "Are we preparing to march? Have you need of me on one of the borderlands?" she asked.

"Those men have just become your enemy," he informed her. He straightened on his mechanical beast just as she sat more straight in her Magitek, watching her carefully. "I need for you to dispose of them," he said.

She counted them quickly by their formations, now her eyes trained to the groups ahead of her. "Fifty men," she said to herself. "Only the fifty or will there be more to reinforce them?" she asked, looking back at Kefka.

He seemed to consider this. "Only the fifty. We've taken the trouble of separating them for you already. I will warn you, though, they will not be easy to kill. They are the Elite."

Terra smiled to him. "They are just men," she said, as though it explained everything. The captain watched in horror as the blonde climbed down out of the Magitek and put her two feet firmly on the ground. She turned back to them after she'd rounded the front of it, and then undid her scabbard and laid her sword down in the cockpit of the Armor.

"Terra, don't you think -" the captain began.

"Don't need it," she said, cutting him off. She walked away from them onto the field, and turned to look back at Kefka once more. "All of them?" she asked, one eye closed slightly more than the other.

"Every last one, my darling," he crooned. He leaned forward, elbows pressed against the neck of the beast and folded backwards, his hands clasped under his chin. He looked like a child at Solstice, waiting to open a mountain of gifts.

She turned back to the men, who raised weapons at her in one singular movement. Both of her own hands raised, and in her palms flames began to grow. The Firaga spell was a brutal one, consuming and hateful. It was one of the ones Kefka had wanted her to learn so badly. She would use it this once, for him. The light illuminated her face in a most captivating and fearsome way, and with her back still turned to them, she rose her voice to Kefka.

"Consider it done, General," came the low purr. The captain shielded his eyes as she loosed the first hand, an explosion of fire raining down a mere fifty feet in front of them. He would never forget the screaming, as long as he lived – which wasn't very much longer after Terra had finished with the Elite, come to think of it.


	3. Can You Hear Me?

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. I do not profit from this writing.

**Prompt 003**

_Can You Hear Me?_

A fourteen year old Terra skulked through the ice and snow, head bowed down beneath her cloak against the elements. She was reminded of the ice-bears, who covered their noses in these white regions so that the dot of black amid miles of pure nothing could not give them away. She shrugged the thick, white material closer to her body, not happy in the slightest that she had chosen to wear red that day.

Of course, there were two very distinct reasons for why the colour found its way into much of her wardrobe, and one of them was her mentor, Kefka Palazzo. Simply put, he liked the colour – and he wore it a lot. Because Terra liked him, she wore red, and through that, she decided she liked the colour very much. It flattered her in a way other colours did not. It made her eyes seem brighter and her skin seem creamier and her form, which was somewhere between a woman and a girl's now, seem more willowy and mature. Of course, the _cut_ usually had something to do with that, although in this weather she was dressed in a more conservative manner. The problem, of course, was that the white cloak could not hide it all, and so the red stuck out across the vast spanse of white, dotted with the flora and fauna of an ice-city, like a sore thumb.

A sore thumb that Kefka was slowly closing in on.

The idea, as she had been told, was to make it from one side to the other without being caught. It was to teach her stealth and infiltration – and, unfortunately, endurance. There were magical traps scattered throughout the "course" (a mostly-abandoned town far in the north which served as a good area for Kefka's purposes), and she had to either avoid them or dismantle them along the way. She'd set a few off by mistake, which was why he was so close to begin with. Up until that point, she'd actually done well at avoiding him, but she'd made a few fatal errors which she no doubt would hear about later when (she hoped) there would be warmer surroundings.

She dropped down on the other side of a ridge created where the snow had begun to run off of a small dugout and froze, which created a sort of psuedo-shelter for the moment, and checked her supplies. She was thirsty, but when she fished her water from her small pack, she realized it was frozen. Rather than work to unfreeze it, she cried out with anger and flung it some twenty paces away from her. She covered her face with her hands, emotions ranging from incredible frustration to dark satire passing through her.

She had no idea how much time had passed as she sat down in her little private hole, recuperating some of her energy. She regretted throwing the water, but it was completely vanished beneath the thick snow now, and she wasn't about to go and dig it out. She considered very briefly just _waiting_ until they found her, but she decided that would be as good as a surrender, and she didn't think that would sit well with Kefka. In fact, she firmly believed in doing so, she'd end up out here every day for a year until he was satisfied she'd learned her lesson. No, it was best to press on.

She popped back out and clenched her hands down on her cloak, emerging from her shelter just as the ice-scattered wind around her dulled to a light, steady sprinkle of flakes. The visibility was high for her, which meant it was high for everyone else who was trying to close in. Kefka had with him several dozens of men, all of whom she could evade but they were troublesome nonetheless, especially regarding their scouting tactics. The odds were obviously against her, but wasn't that the point? He was convinced she could do it. It was an inspiring sort of confidence, and one that gave her the ability to move; whether she admitted that or not to him later would remain to be seen. She felt it a bit too sentimental, and he had never seemed to be one for that sort of thing.

She saw the entrance of the town by way of a long wooden signpost that was sticking out, just barely, in the midst of a snow drift. She darted towards it, the snow thick beneath her feet. It caused her to run awkwardly, a sort of leap-bound, leap-bound, leap-bound pace that was not unlike running in sand, except if the sand were up to her knees. Her skin tingled as she closed in, and she realized that the entire width of the path leading into the town was rigged – she could feel the magic rippling from it like a liquid sort of wall.

_Of course_, she thought to herself. _You'd never make it that easy._ She smiled a little with the shake of her head, and raised her hands. It was a thick wall, one that would take some moderate concentration to remove, but she was sure she could do it. The mechanics of the spell were the same as one she'd encountered before, although this one was larger. It was a relief from the explosive trap she'd found, one of which had given her a small daze which she took several hours to walk off completely. It left her with a horrible buzzing in her ear; she could only assume it was residual from the energy still clinging to her. That was the last time she ever stuck her hand in a trap laced with that lightning magic, that was for sure.

Terra began to heat up from the natural demand that using her energy took from her, and she stupidly removed her cloak. She could almost feel the hole she'd put right into the middle of the blockade, and if she could just make it a little bigger, she could dart through and get to her destination. Her lips were chalky as she pressed them together, and she cursed herself again for throwing her water aside. The cloak now cast down at her booted feet, she flexed her fingers and had another go at the wall. She felt something brush against her energy, and realized that there was something imbued in the wall – _what the f - _

She didn't even see him coming until it was too late. Bright red and white light exploded around her – or was it just in her vision? It flashed and then dotted, and she felt very suddenly like she'd been struck with ten-thousand arrows, but they were all over, not just at her back. They were in her chest, her lungs, her _eyes_. She cried out sharply, but it was a brief yelp cut off by the silence that came hand in hand with the black that took her vision.

She could still _feel_, and so instinctively, knowing she had fallen forward, she plunged her hands into the snow and began to scramble towards the barrier. She could make it through like this, she reckoned. Kefka was close by; she could sense him, but she couldn't see him (then again she couldn't see anything). She could feel her breathing in her chest as the cold air went in and out, ragged and like needles. Everything was still black and her fingers burned from the icy ground. She didn't even realize she wasn't actually moving any further.

When she opened her eyes, she was on her back, and everything was gray and fuzzy. Above her, Kefka leaned down, blue eyes wide and brows knitted with an emotion she had never seen before – fear? No, it wasn't. It was something else – and he was blurry on the edges, like in a dream. His lips were moving, but she couldn't hear anything except for an incredibly high-pitched hum, and it seemed to envelope even her most basic of senses. She tried to raise a hand, to count her own fingers, and she realized that the hand she wanted to move was already raised – and folded within his own. And she could not feel it. She wanted to scream, but instead made no sound as her eyes darted from left to right. His fear she was unsure of, but hers was absolute. Was she paralyzed? Was she dying? Incoherent and abstract shapes drew in around her, the faces of the other men coming into focus briefly.

She could not hear him, but she could see his head jerk up. His face twisted into an angry snarl and he waved them away with his other hand; vaguely, as though a memory, she could feel heat rising off of him in his outburst of command. And... panic.

He looked back down at her again, leaning closer to her face.

"..._ear me.. __n yo.. me.. __EAR ME.. _TERRA, CAN YOU HEAR ME?"

She found the presence of mind somewhere along the way to nod, blinking her eyes rapidly. At once she was swept by her upper torso, buried within his arms. He was shaking from the cold (from the cold?) and saying something to himself that she could not hear, because that buzzing was still stealing most of her ability to think straight.

"What... happened?" she choked finally.

"An accident," came his reply, his eyes still thoroughly covering her, checking for blood or bruising or – he didn't know, really, _anything_. "I spotted you and decided to surprise you. I didn't realize that you were so close to undoing the gate. There was another trap inside of it – meant only to sting, Terra," he added, his voice low. "It all just happened at once. I got here as fast as I could," he said, looking incredibly guilty. He would never forget the image of her on auto-pilot, desperately trying to make it for the finish line. It made his stomach turn in a way that caused bile to rise to the back of his throat.

"It's fine," she said, even though she didn't feel fine at all. She didn't know why she was offering him this when he'd nearly splattered her across the snow, but she was. She felt it may be the same reason she didn't tell him why she wore red. "It's fine, it's fine," she breathed. She could feel her fingers now, and her toes – and the rest of her, and for that matter, she was freezing. "Can you please take me inside?"

She didn't trust herself to walk, and so she allowed her dignity to take a backseat to being hoisted up and carried, just this once. She rested her head against the crook of his neck, ignoring how she could still feel his collarbone even through layers of fabric meant to keep the chill out. He was losing weight, and it worried her. She closed her eyes, weary despite the excitement, and drifted away to the sounds of his voice softly saying, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," over and over again, like a haunting melody that ripped her heart in two.


	4. Scream

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. I do not profit from this writing.

**Prompt 004**

_Scream_

He watches her as she sits calmly, the little Moogle in her lap. She's named it – or, _him_ as she so humorously keep correcting him – Angel (and he finds it ironic considering he'd like to drop-kick the little thing more often than not; why were Moogles so _inclined_ to relieving themselves under his desk?). But back to Angel, and more importantly his darling Terra, who is curled up in a chair two sizes too big for her, legs tucked to one side. The rode – sorry, _Angel_ is squeaking happily as she lightly brushes its fur with her fingertips, puffing it out by pinching tufts of it gently.

If the Emperor had it his way, Terra would not be allowed to have the Moogle – she would not be allowed in this part of the castle, let alone in Kefka's quarters. The emperor, fortunately, has learned to pick and choose his battles with Kefka, and if Terra asks for a Moogle, regardless of how much he doesn't want to continuously wipe the fur from everything he owns, she will have one.

She catches him looking at her and smiles – and it is a smile she reserves only for him. It meets her large eyes, and for a moment she forgets about the Moogle. He smiles back, but as much as he tries the warmth falls short of his eyes. It is fortunate that Angel begins to vie for Terra's attention at that moment, because he has to drop his eyes back down to his parchment before she notices something is wrong.

His fingers curl around the quill, and he reads the same paragraph four times, the sounds of Terra speaking sweetly to the little animal his background noise. He smiles in spite of himself, but when he flicks his blue eyes up to see what adorable thing she's managed to do now, the room... changes. The mage-lights comfortably illuminating every corner in a soft orange glow are negative-images of themselves, harsh and haunting blue bathing once-grey and now-black walls.

The desk has become a body; an androgynous body with no head, bent backwards at an unnatural angle. His parchments curl at the edges and smell of burned flesh, and he can feel things swarming around his feet. When he looks down, he realizes they are the rotting corpses of rodents, and he leaps up with a cry of disgust.

He snaps his head back as a sound catches his ears, and in the mirror to his right is a reflection that moves with his, but is not his. It is a man of his height, but so much more gaunt; rotted and sallow, with sunken cheeks and wild eyes. The face is covered with makeup not unlike a jester, and as he nears the mirror, he realizes that it is _him_ and he is _laughing. _In the room in the mirror, there are bodies littering the floor and there is blood painted on the walls. Things he does not understand are written, and the laughter floods his head and threatens to break his mind.

When he turns to his room, the real room, the bodies are present and the blood is seeping. His beautiful Terra is slumped over in the chair, the Moogle she once held a demonic and twisted beast who is chewing on her flesh.

"No," he whispers, hands raising to his face. He is unable to comprehend what he is seeing, and the horror of seeing her dead body before him pushes his limits; he forgets to remember that it is not real. The monster-Moogle looks up at him, a yellow shimmer in its eyes even in the darkness. It bares its teeth at him and makes a vicious noise.

He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing save an incoherent roar of fury escapes. He crosses the floor in one-two long strides and grabs up the Moogle by its neck. He shakes it as hard as he can, breaking its neck as he flings it against the adjacent wall. The sound of screaming brings him back to reality.

He is standing in front of Terra, hands outstretched. She is in the chair, pinned into the corner and shifted to one side with her forearms covering her face. The Moogle is no longer on her lap, but laying motionless in a ball across the room. Terra is screaming. And screaming. And screaming.


	5. Obsession

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. I do not profit from this writing.

**Prompt 005**

_Obsession_

They were talking about him. He could hear it.

_They're talking about you, you know. About how you're becoming a danger._

He inched closer to the door.

_You should put them all out of their misery now. Why wait until later, when they could get the upper hand?_

It was Celes' voice he heard first, a thing that stung him.

_Disobedient and mouthy doll. You should remove her tongue so she can speak no longer._

He listened.

"Leo, I don't think that you're entirely off-base," she said. He could see a sliver of her through the barely-opened door, a tumble of long blonde hair and a flash of cloth as she moved rather swiftly from one side of the room to the other. She was anxious; she was pacing.

_She should be anxious. Treacherous harpy. She should be very nervous, indeed._

"When Gestahl doesn't have him on a short leash, he's always around her. And it's not like before. He isn't studying her anymore; he has no reason to. It's more like he's..." Leo trailed off.

_Who has whom on a short leash? Methinks the General has some rather lofty notions of what's really going on in this Empire._

Celes, again. "She adores him, Leo. As much as she's capable – which isn't to say much, but we all see it." Leo made a noise, and she pressed on. "Not like that, no; she... it's hard to explain."

_But wouldn't you know?_

"Adores? She's _terrified_ of him," the deep voice countered, disgust riddling its tone. "She no more adores him than you do."

"But I did, once. And then – he changed. And he's changing, even still. He's not in control, anymore, Leo. He's – he's lost it." The way she spoke, it didn't sound like she even believed herself, but Kefka knew Celes well enough to know that if she was saying it, she'd given it a lot of thought.

_Dolls aren't allowed to think._

"Well, whatever you think we need to do, we need to do it soon. He's obsessed with her, and as much as you know I think this is all wildly absurd, she's got power. If he finds a way to use it, it's not going to end well. For anyone."

_Now there, my good man, is an idea._

Celes made a noise of accord. "We need to separate them." She may have been young, but she and Terra were about the same age, and both had matured stupidly fast. Terra would understand. She would have to – she had no choice.

"I'll go find her, then. Bring her to the Emperor. Present our case." Shuffling noises and the volume made Kefka realize that Leo was coming towards the door. Kefka, not too dignified to run, darted down the hall and slipped into a darkened room as the General passed him by.

Every ounce of his being wanted to reach out behind him and slit his throat where he stood, but Kefka couldn't. Leo might still prove useful, yet. Somehow. He just needed time to think – but he was angry, and felt rather justified about it.

_Yes, why shouldn't we be? That lying bitch is trying to ruin us. And that idiot is off-base. Terra isn't afraid of us. Terra loves us! Terra __**needs**__ us. Without us, Terra would have no purpose. We've given Terra a purpose; we absolutely have given her a reason for living._

He knew where Leo was going, and so he went the opposite way, opting for a shortcut to Terra's room. He stopped along the way, to pick up something from his own quarters; something incredibly useful. Something to get his point across.

_This is absolutely the only option we have. They've forced our hand, given us no choice. Terra will understand. Terra doesn't have a choice. She's going to be a perfect doll, not like Celes. No, Terra is going to be a perfect doll. Perfect, perfect, perfect, perfect..._

When she opened the door, he was waiting for her. For a moment, he saw fear flicker across her eyes, but she seemed resolute not to show it, and instead carefully kept a distance from him.

_She __**is**__ scared of you. She doesn't adore you at all. They were right. They were right. They were right. You must show her the truth; you must show her how only you can set her free, use her for her full potential. You must make her adore you again, so she can be perfect, perfect, perfect..._

At the voice rotting in his head, he barely contained a laugh. It came out an odd sound, high-pitched and not unlike an animal. He almost covered his face as the sheer madness raced through his body and blood, settling on his shoulders like a finely worn suit of armor.

"Come here," he said, holding his hand out. "I want to show you something." His words traced the edges of that sound of madness, making him bite down on his lip to break the width of his smile only so he wouldn't spook her off so quickly. Eventually, she reluctantly asks him only what he wants, and he feels as though she's slapped him in the face.

_Stupid doll stupid doll questioning asking wondering WHY is she talking she is not allowed to speak we did not give her permission to speak why is she not coming closer we have given her an order why is she not obeying stupid stupid doll stupid doll..._

The thoughts in his head that were not his are his, becoming less and less articulate and more violent. And it makes him smile. "You're being difficult," he warned her, his voice sing-song as he raises a finger to shake. His tone dropped off then, rather scary - "Don't make me chase you down, now."

It took convincing, but he finally tricked her with the notion of a gift, playing on her humility and her innocence. Terra was innocent, after all. She'd never known real pain or suffering; she'd felt both but she didn't really _know_ them, didn't understand their _full scope_ of possibilities. As he lowered the slave crown onto her head, he saw that she realized she'd made a mistake, but she either couldn't or wouldn't stop him. She might have even been able to, maybe, in some alternate reality where she didn't trust him and want to believe he wasn't so crazy; she might have even begged him to stop; he didn't know, because he wasn't listening. All he could hear was

_PERFECTPERFECTPERFECT DOLL PERFECT DOLL PERFECT WON'T SPEAK WON'T EAT WON'T RUN AWAY WON'T LIE PERFECTPERFECTPERFECTDOLL_

"You must come with me at once, darling. I need you to do something for me," he said, holding his hand out to her. She did not acknowledge for a moment, staring straight ahead with her head tilted down and her eyes half-lidded by the fog of the crown. Kefka narrowed his eyes a little, and with a mental tweak, her head snapped up.

A smile spread across her lips; it wasn't any longer the smile reserved for him, but had lost use for such things in his heart what seemed like millenia ago. No, this was an obedient and eager smile, meeting her eyes but only barely, seemingly frozen in place like she were a – a doll. "Of course," she said, her voice melodic and _perfectperfectperfect_. "Anything."

Leo heard Kefka's maniacal laughter as he approached Terra's room, and his blood ran cold. He had a very strong feeling that this was the beginning of the end; he could put his finger on exactly where it went awry, too, and it all started with that god-damned magic.


	6. Precious

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. I do not profit from this writing.

**Prompt 006**

_Precious_

Kefka felt, undeniably, that his youth had come and gone. Literally. He wasn't even in his twentieth winter yet and his bones ached when he woke in the morning, while his first few steps would bring cracking and popping to things he didn't even know he had. The infusions had been a success in every sense of the word – or so _they_ felt. Kefka couldn't help but feel like something had been overlooked, something very important, and something that he would need to know.

There was a swift rap at his door, and he ungracefully leapt amid a swirl of blankets and pillows that he called his bed. His room alternated between terribly hot and annoyingly cold, and so his nights were filled with a small extension of dreaming scattering the moments it took to kick the blankets off, and then go fetch them later when he worried he'd die of frostbite. Really, for as "important" as they made him out to be, he felt that this wasn't the best they could do with accommodations.

Of course, that was the _new_ him talking. Ten years ago, a cage with rat droppings would have been better than that... _place_. He'd taken in the infusions within the full scope of their methods, using every instance as an opportunity to wipe his memory of the day before, and the day before, and the day before. Kefka could only move forward, and he did so with great effort, although to those around him it seemed effortless. If they only knew.

There was another knock, this time followed by a swift boot at the baseboard of the door, where the designers had been smart enough to put a thin metal plate, knowing people in the palace had a tendency to... kick. "On your feet, Palazzo!" came the voice from the other side. It was tenor and tired, but traced with irritation that it had the job of seeking out Kefka. "You're needed in the main hall. The emperor has something... Oh, just come and see, will you? The bloody sun isn't even up yet, and I didn't memorize my speech!"

He finally opened the door to find a young member bearing the Elite sigil on his armor. He was in full battle dress, and Kefka could see spots where the tarnish of blood had been wiped away; the armor, though, without polish, did not shine, and that was how one knew how messy a skirmish had become. This man was more shiny than dull, and Kefka pursed his lips.

"Have you just arrived back from the raid?" Kefka asked, his sapphire blue eyes narrowed in mixed emotion. If they'd just gotten back, why would Gestahl be sending for _him_? Unless he was in trouble somehow, which he decided was not out of the realm of possibility. But it would only serve them right; they had to stop trying to stick him in the same room with that angry little man they called a wizard to test his abilities thus far. The last time he'd scorched the man's beard off and slapped him on the rear with the broad side of his sword. He'd never heard so much indignant hollering in all of his life before that moment, especially not from a man over the age of forty. Well, served _him_ right, too.

The Elite shifted impatiently. He was tired, that much could be told from the faint circles under his eyes, but more importantly, the man was sick of standing around in full armor when the part of the castle he was in was so warm. A bead of sweat worked its way firmly down his brow, and he made an angry noise. "Could you for once not ask a hundred questions and just come with me? I'm about to burst into flames," he said.

"Whining doesn't become you," Kefka responded bitterly. "I'll be out in a moment." He shut the door abruptly in the Elite's face, a roll of his eyes so heavy that it actually gave him a flicker of pain. The Elite were painted to be the Empire's best and most able, and yet Kefka had noticed that they relied heavily on brute force, which was effective to be sure – but why worry about that when they had begun to infuse people? Kefka certainly didn't think himself to be the only person who'd undergone it, and he had no reason to. It wasn't like he was some sick experiment by the Empire. They were just trying to get the formula right. And anyways, they'd plucked him out of that rathole home he'd been in, and that was enough. He refused to allow that place any more thought for the moment, and pulled on a shirt before splashing his face with some water from the washbasin.

He ran his damp fingers through his hair, trying to tame down some of the unruly nature. It was halfway down his neck, now, and growing quickly. It was the first time in his life he'd been allowed to have it long, and he intended to abuse that to its full potential if he could help it. As it stood, he looked fairly normal – and in fact, rather charming, if he overlooked the bruises and scrapes that he would garner over the weeks. They would heal; they always did. He didn't enjoy how scrawny he was, though, but that had been accepted long ago. His build was wiry (lean, on a good day), but with it came a certain flexibility and grace that the bulkier soldiers did not possess. He was the only one in the Emporer's charge who retained the ability to do a back-flip, it seemed. A useless, if not otherwise amusing, talent.

"COME ON PALAZZO I'M SERIOUS I'M REALLY GETTING TIRED OF WAITING WHY IS THIS PART OF THE CASTLE SO HOT – oh, there you are." The noise muffled behind the door grew tremendously in volume as Kefka opened it again, his features washed with serenity as the younger Elite bellowed at the wood. He stopped just as he realized he had Kefka's audience again, and straightened up. "Good. Let's go. He hates to be kept waiting," the Elite muttered, this time in an almost sing-song tone as though he'd been told the very same dozens of times. In truth, he probably had – Elite soldiers were generally much older, Kefka observed, so this one must have had some skill to have been chosen thus far.

When they got into the main hall, Kefka was utterly shocked at all of the people who were present. Every one of the Elite, of which there were fifty, was now present and accounted for. They stood on either side of the walkway, arranged in rows of five by five. Kefka became incredibly unsure of what was going on, or why it was necessary to call such an elaborate meeting. One of the Elite, a General, defected from his formation to step in front of the youth. Kefka noticed his armor was almost gray it was so dull, and inwardly flinched a little. There were spots where he had not even bothered to wipe the blood away at all.

"This way, Palazzo," the man said, his voice toneless as he turned. Kefka had to avoid the dress cape on the back of the armor, and resisted the urge to step on it as he followed. They all spoke to him like he were some sort of task, and it was beginning to grate on him. He continued to tail the General up the short burst of steps that lead to a large set of wooden doors, on the other side of which the General had candidly said, "You're _really_ not going to believe this," before pushing them open and closing them swiftly behind him.

The Emperor stood, his arms folded in that way they always were. Age had begun to seep into Gestahl's features too, and Kefka realized that this was an unavoidable thing. Inwardly, some part of him was determined to live forever, but he couldn't tell if that was the magic talking or if he'd finally snapped. And then the Emperor was talking, and he had to blink to put himself back into the reality at hand.

"...as a complete success. More than I ever dreamed it could be. Do you have any idea... any idea what this means for us? For the Empire?" Gestahl was saying. He ran his hands through his long salt-and-pepper hair, though it was more pepper than salt for the time being. He looked beside himself with some emotion – Gestahl called it "delight", but Kefka knew that look on a man's face and he called it greed.

"Would you like to see?" Gestahl asked him, his voice eager like a child seeking approval. He was ready to show off the spoils of war, it seemed – despite the fact that the Elite had done all of the spoiling, it seemed Gestahl took credit for the final result.

"Obviously," Kefka said, holding his hands up in an 'on with it' motion.

Gestahl looked at Kefka for a long moment, unable to decide whether to sail into a lecture about his attitude or just move on with the show, but finally he decided that a lecture wouldn't do anyone any good. He held up his finger and then dashed to a door on the other side of the room. "Give her to me!" he hissed. There was a small argument to be had between he and one of the female staff members in his personal team before finally he emerged with...

A child.

A child he was heading straight at Kefka with.

"She's one of them!" he squealed, not unlike a girl.

A child. "She's no more than one or two winter's past, Gestahl," Kefka pointed out.

"They begged for mercy," he informed Kefka.

The child looked petrified.

"Do you think you should really say that in front of her?" Kefka ventured. This was all very shaky ground for him. He watched as the child's eyes went left, then right, then centered on him. He stared back, his own eyes narrowing out of habit. Why was she _looking_ at him like that? "What _is_ she?"

"She's a Halfling!" Gestahl exclaimed, his voice reaching a girlishly high octave. "Think, Kefka. Think of the uses! Think of what we could learn from her! I took her myself," he sang, his voice proud.

"You took her?" Kefka said doubtfully.

The child stared at him. She still looked petrified.

"Her mother was in the throes of 'Oh please, no!' And you said I never lifted a hand," he said, a rude laugh ripping through the room. Gestahl was beside himself with victory.

"You took her from her _mother_?" Kefka barked. That struck a nerve with him, to say the least. Why would Gestahl tell him these things, knowing Kefka had such a deep resentment towards breaking the bond of trust a child had? It was enough to drive him mad, and he slapped himself in the face, rubbing his hands over his closed eyes to try and reason with himself.

"Oh, stuff it," the Emperor said. "Always trying to steal the wind out of my sails. If you're so concerned for her, then _you_ can be charged with caring for her."

The child was suddenly thrust at Kefka.

"What? That's ridiculous," he snarled. He held his hands up to ward them both away. "You're going to use her for research, why should I even -"

The child was trying to weigh out her options. She went between the dark-haired man in itchy clothing who shook her and yelled at her to the light-haired one who seemed marginally less intense. She looked back and forth.

"Then I don't want to hear any protests about how I handle _my_ property!" Gestahl shot back.

The child reached for the blonde.

Both men stopped arguing.

"Absolutely not," Kefka sputtered.

Gestahl practically threw her to him, and Kefka had no choice but to catch her. He turned his body away so that she wouldn't be so vulnerable to Gestahl. The motion was instinctive; Kefka fully supported the idea of progress, but not from a child who knew no better and certainly not from one whose mother had just been slaughtered.

"It seems I have underestimated you, Kefka," Gestahl said gleefully. "Now I have one less thing to attend to."

"Wait! You know as well as I do that I can't take care of a child!" he shouted. Gestahl was already walking away, and so he hurried after him, the girl gathered in his arms. Gestahl waved him off without looking back, something about 'responsibility' and 'honor' and 'building character'. Kefka growled to himself. If he never heard another remark about what would build his character, it would be too soon.

The child remained stoic for the entire walk to find one of the women in the castle who had children. He was lead to a nursery, where he was incredibly uneasy – he felt he was far, far too much of a cracked egg to even be in there, but it was necessary for the time. He set her down on a soft mat, where she stopped being stoic and promptly began to scream bloody murder.

A string of words he wasn't proud of left his mouth as he slapped his hands to his temples. _This_ was why Gestahl had passed her off. It had nothing to do with her being a Halfling. It had everything to do with her being a _child_. He began digging through supplies in the room, running them in front of her to see if they'd placate her caterwauling. She wasn't hungry, she wasn't thirsty, she didn't need to be changed, she didn't want to lay down. He snatched desperately at a doll someone had left in the toy chest; it was like a court jester, all white with a colourful garment and a silly hat. He held it up to her, and for a moment her eyes were frozen wide with fear. She reached out, took the doll, and threw it as far as she could, then continued to scream.

"I don't know what you want!" he shouted.

"Have you tried picking her up?"

Kefka whipped around, hands still motioning at the child to calm her down. In the doorway was an older woman who tended to many of the children in the palace. She nodded to him. "I just put her down!" he practically screamed. He had to – the child had not stopped.

"Just try," she assured him.

He tried. She stopped.

"Oh, I think she likes you," the woman said, a twinkle in her eye.

He looked down at her, wondering how he'd gotten stuck with a child when still felt like one himself. "Does she?" he asked stupidly. "How do you know?"

The woman approached him, and held her hands out. "Let me hold her?" she asked.

Kefka stared at her for a second, and then held the girl out. As soon as she was lifted away from him, she began to wail; she hadn't even exchanged hands yet. Kefka reeled her back in, shifting her weight so that he held her with one arm while the other allowed a hand to softly pat her back. He could feel her tiny chin against his shoulder as she buried as much of her face as she could into the forearm that wasn't anchored around his neck.

"I told you," the woman sang. "Good luck separating her from you now. Is this the one just received?" she asked.

Of course. Gestahl had to have been trying to find someone to pass her off on the moment he picked her up. Kefka felt his lips twitch in a sneer, but did nothing save nod.

"Well, please let me know if I can be of any assistance to you. It'd be best if she had a bit of stability right now, though. The details of the Emperor's acquisition of her are..." she trailed off. "She needs stability," she finally said, choosing her words carefully.

Kefka glanced down at the girl, who had relaxed to the point where he thought something was amiss – but she was asleep. He nodded to the woman and saw himself out, walking into the hall only because his legs were on auto-pilot. If he hadn't have opened his mouth, he wouldn't be in this situation right now. Of course, when did he _not_ open his mouth? Gestahl liked Kefka's insight at times, but moments like today his reactions did not endear him to Kefka much. Still, Kefka knew more than anyone else there how important stability was. His life would have been completely different without it, but he struggled to believe it would have been any worse. No, it wasn't possible. Just because he was good now didn't mean he had been bad before; it meant he'd gotten _lucky_.

He had no idea how to handle this situation he was in, but one thing was certain: they'd have to pry that precious little girl from his cold, dead fingers if they wanted to take her from him. He could do that much.


	7. Pain

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. I do not profit from this writing.

Author's Note: Yeah, so I borrowed something from the Sword of Truth series. Keep your eyes open and you might notice it!

**Prompt 007**

_Pain_

Sometimes a man had to do things he didn't necessarily agree with. He had to bend his morals or twist them just enough to allow him the ability to accomplish tasks as they were given; sometimes he had to blur the line so much he didn't know if he'd ever see it the same way again. Gestahl had in his employment several men who did not have this problem at all; one such had been specifically requested to test the Halfing, that Esper-Human hybrid. Gestahl wanted to see just how well Kefka had trained her.

Commandant Yfrain was a special man with a special sort of skills, one Gestahl had in his fur-lined pockets when he needed to know specific details about something and he didn't feel like magic would be an... appropriate path to take. The "t" word was never used, but Yfrain was all about physical anguish, and so people tended to steer clear of everything having to do with disobedience on the rare occasions where the man was actually summoned to be within the immediate vicinity.

Unfortunately for both Terra and Kefka, Yfrain's presence had gone unnoticed for the better part of the week. On Kefka's part it was simply because he had been deployed elsewhere with Celes; she had also been infused, and so Kefka did need to train with her as well to ensure the bonding had taken. Celes was doing much better than he was, and he had to admit it to himself, which put him in a righteously foul mood for the entire journey – which left Celes wishing she'd feigned an illness to stay by Leo's side. The man was a calmer, gentler reminder of what swift power and authority could be when it wasn't in the hands of an utterly stark raving mad lunatic – or, as Celes called him, Palazzo.

On Terra's part, it was because she genuinely didn't know any better. And why should she have? She'd never had a reason to be subject to Yfrain's methods; Gestahl had never had a reason to doubt her. However, the girl had aligned herself more with that increasingly-unstable clown than she had himself (and this was even before the actual _clown_ aspect, but Gestahl's opinion of Kefka was dropping faster than the temperature in the mines on a winter's night) and that just didn't sit well with him. He hadn't gotten as far along in his empire without a healthy level of paranoia, and thus he'd summoned Yfrain to test Terra's level of obedience. He wanted to see, plainly, if Kefka was planning to overthrow him anytime soon. He assumed the girl would know. She followed him around like a damned doll; had ever since she'd been a child. He regretted the day he'd ever handed her over; if he'd have known that idiot would bond with her like a god-damned baby duck he'd have chosen a different path.

Yfrain spotted Terra outside, alone. It was lovely outside, and so she'd spirited away with a book and a drink that was too sweet but with enough ice to make it tolerable and had gone into the courtyard to read. With Kefka gone and her well-deserved break from training, she wanted nothing more than to relax. It wasn't that she was going to relax _because_ of his absence, but it was in spite of it. When you see someone day in and day out for several years, they become a part of you. When that person goes away for any reason at all, it's an odd feeling. When that person goes away with someone you don't necessarily like, well – reading kept her from drawing her own conclusions.

He approached her after she seemed to have gotten settled in, if only because he wanted to study her social habits. How did she react to being interrupted? He'd heard very mixed reviews on the girl: some said she had the temperament of a dove, all sugar and kindness; others said she was a tempestuous serpent, not to be trifled with. It depended, as with Kefka, what sort of mood she'd been caught in when those people had experienced her personality. If any of them had been stuck at the opposite end of her magic, well, they had fine reasons to dislike her. Terra was told long ago not to go easy on anyone trying to attack her, and she took that advice rather seriously. She took all of Kefka's advice seriously, actually – except for the part about getting another Moogle. She'd never. Never. Again.

"Yes?" she asked, looking up as the man's shadow fell over her light. She tilted her chin up, glad for his shade as it meant she did not need to squint against the sun as it shined down behind him. "Can I assist you?"

Yfrain paused. She _seemed_ well-mannered. "My name is Yfrain. Malbis Yfrain," he said, giving her a half-bow. "The emperor bid me come and speak with you, child. Can you tell me, where is your mentor?" he asked. His voice was carefully neutral; the _only_ reason Gestahl had called him out was because Kefka was gone.

"Oh," she said, a smile rising but not meeting her eyes. "He's away for a few days. I'm not his only student," she said. "Did you need to speak with me, or did you need to speak with him? I can give him a message if it's not important, but if it is, I think it best you wait until his return. Or perhaps you could tell the Emperor?"

"No," he said. "It was just a curiosity, is all. I hear the two of you are rather inseparable."

Terra thought this an odd statement to make, but it wasn't entirely unfounded. She did spend much of her time with Kefka. "It's true," she admitted. She desperately hoped this wasn't going to turn into some sort of lecture. She'd heard them before. The people within the Empire had some rather vivid imaginations; all of the stories much more elaborate yarns than the actual truth of the matter.

"Could you come with me, please?" the man said rather abruptly. His body language seemed to expect that she would follow. He watched as she carefully marked her page in the book and stood, the material in one hand with her drink in the other. She made no move to follow him, though; just stood.

"May I ask what this is concerning?" she asked. She had one eye closed slightly and her head was turned just a little to the right; skepticism and distrust. She would mostly obey a request from even a complete stranger if they identified themselves to her, but she wouldn't comply without a reason.

"As I have said, miss. The emperor Gestahl bid me speak with you. There are a few things that I need to discuss in length. I would appreciate it if you could follow me, now," he said. The way he said it to her didn't seem as though she had much of a choice. Terra remembered early on in her youth when she'd told one of the emperor's men "No" concerning something insignificant and she'd gotten slapped across the face so hard she'd received a bruise. From them on, she was glued to Kefka's side. At least when he hit her it was during some sort of actual exercise, and not because she wouldn't eat her damned carrots.

Now with Kefka and carrots dancing around her head in some sort of frightening waltz, she followed Yfrain through the palace. He directed her into a small room where there was a chair. "You may set your things down there," he informed her with a gesture. "And then I'd like you to have a seat."

By the time Gestahl had arrived to see the progress, Terra was seated comfortably and was staring into nothingness as Yfrain prepared some unseen thing in the next room. He stuck his head in the doorway and she nodded to him with a smile that may as well have been painted on. Gestahl wanted to throttle her; every thing _about_ her was disobedient. Why had he ever allowed her to be socialized? She should have been kept in a cage. He hadn't gone through all of that trouble to get her just for her to barely acknowledge his existence. He was _Emperor_. Why did she not _tremble_ in his presence? It was that damned Kefka, filling her head with nonsense.

"What do you think?" he piped, much to the irritation of the Commandant, who hadn't formed much of an opinion at all, just yet.

"Go back in there and tell her that it's important she answer my questions with honesty and that she remember that there will be a penalty for lying," he said, his voice hollow. He glanced up from arranging the metallic tools in range from most sharp to most dull, and then laid a white cloth over the tray and prepared to wheel it out into the next room, where it would sit ominously in the corner until the girl lied.

"I also suggest you give her this," he said. He held up what appeared to be an iron collar – it wasn't really a collar, but it was a damned unattractive necklace if it was jewelry. Gestahl hadn't seen anything like it before.

"What is it?" he puzzled, flipping it over in his hands a few times.

"Very powerful. You told me I was dealing with an Esper – or a half-Esper, I suppose. I got it from a reliable source." Yfrain was careful not to tell the Emperor what precisely the Rada'Han did or what astronomically high price he paid to get one. That was _all_ Gestahl needed: a myriad of them at his disposal.

Gestahl didn't like being told what to do, but for the sake of argument, he did it anyways. "Terra," he greeted again, this time with the thing in his hand.

"Emperor," she replied, same as before with that false smile. "How may I assist you?"

"My comrade Yfrain needs to ask you some routine questions. It's just that there are some things we need cleared up – everyone here speaks to him eventually. He's a bit of a specialist, you see," he said. He wasn't lying – not _really_, though he didn't feel like he'd been as convincing as he could have been.

"Okay," Terra said serenely. "If I may be of help, I will tell him anything he wishes to know."

"Good girl. Also, as is customary I do need you to wear this. It just helps the, uh, research." He thrust the Rada'Han at her, practically sticking it in her face. "It's a necklace," he added, seeing her looking at it with a confused expression.

"Oh. Research," she parroted. "Of course." For a moment, Terra thought someone might actually have felt she had something important to say; but no, it was more testing. As she tried to figure out how to put the Rada'Han on (it was strange, it had no clasp that she could find, like one of those trap-toys Kefka had given to her once), she asked the Emperor a most natural question for her: "Shouldn't Kefka be here? He is usually present for most of this."

"He's not the one in charge of this entire operation, girl, I am!" Gestahl barked. It was an unexpected reaction, and he raised his voice around the same time her thumb had found the clasp on the "necklace", the silence that followed his outburst punctuated by the metallic _tink_ as she opened it.

"It was just a question," she said defensively. She put the thing on. It felt heavy and clumsy against her throat, and it was _cold._

"That would be your note to exit on, Emperor," Yfrain said, and his voice held a hint of warning to it. "I will find your answers for you." And he practically chased the larger, much more graying man from the room, shutting the door with a deliberate click.

With the thing on Terra, her magic was muted. He could rift through her mind at ease, tell if she were lying with but a flex of his power, and keep her in that chair without having to physically bind her to it should the need arise. He was almost sure it would, too.

"Tell me, Terra, why is it that you no longer desire to own any Moogles?" he asked. His voice was utterly calm, and he slowly wheeled a cart with a cloth into the corner of the room. He walked away from it after a final inspection of whatever was beneath it, and then sat down across from her, adjusting the cuffs on his crisp black long-sleeved shirt.

"I'm sorry?" she sputtered, caught completely off-balance by his question. "I don't own them because I have no time for pets," she said, though it was obvious the question bothered her immensely. "What does that have to do with anything?"

He made a 'Hm' noise, and nodded. "First, I'm going to tell you that you're lying to me – and badly, I might add. Second, if this is going to be a mutually beneficial relationship, I need for you to relax. As long as you tell me what you know, I won't be forced to alter the conditions of our arrangement," he warned.

"And those are?" she asked, aware that this situation was quickly becoming an undesirable one. She reached out with her magic to try and read him, and found that she was hearing nothing. Not nothing, but _nothing_. It was as though she had no ability to begin with; like she was blind. She made a soft choking noise, and then reached up to the iron thing at her throat. "What is the meaning of this?" she hissed. "Do you know what I _am_?" She pushed against the chair, attempting to stand; she found rather quickly that she was seated back down and unable to stand again, or move her arms and legs, for that matter.

"Well, yes. Hence the addition to your ensemble," he said, blinking rapidly at her for asking such a stupid question. "Please, Terra, answer my questions. The sooner this is done, the sooner you may leave. I promise; if you do well, this experience won't have to be bad for you," Yfrain assured her. "I'd appreciate it if you'd stay seated, also," he informed her, though that bit was sarcasm on his end. He'd bound her to the chair for the time being with a simple spell.

"I no longer desire to own Moogles because I don't have time for pets," she repeated blandly, despite her creeping fear. She wasn't about to tell that personal story to a complete stranger; she'd never told _anyone_, in fact. She and Kefka had never spoken of it after it had happened, although on several occasions he had appeared at her door with a stuffed version looking incredibly guilty. She kept them all on a shelf in her room, but to own a real one? Never again. Not after that. She had forgiven him as much as she was able, but she wasn't stupid enough to try it again. That part of her trust was just gone. She had the feeling that it bothered him more than it did her.

Yfrain responded by a sharp cuff across the face; visions of Kefka and carrots and Moogles swirled around her head as she tried to shake the blow off. With no magic, she had no resolve; with no resolve, she had no damned idea how to withstand that sort of blow – and it was a weak blow, at best. When he really hit her, which she was sure he would, she was going to feel it much worse.

"Let's try again," he said, his voice growing more heated. "Why don't you own any Moogles, Terra? Why is this question so hard to answer?"

"I don't own Moogles because I don't have time for pets!" she echoed.

"Why do I feel like it has more to do with your trainer than your own busy schedule?" he demanded. He was beginning to circle her, but this exchange was telling him more than she wasn't, even if she didn't realize it. Gestahl was on to one thing – the girl was a lot more loyal to one person than the other, and since that person wasn't the Emperor, that was a problem that needed to be corrected.

"That's ridiculous," she snapped. She took another sharp blow to the face, this time feeling blood as it ran from her nose. It felt much different than it had in the past; now it _hurt_ in a way that she couldn't explain. It made the times before seem intangible somehow and insubstantial. This pain was _real_ pain; there was no magic Cure or buffer to temper it down to a tolerable level.

He hit her again, for good measure. This time, it was a closed fist, and it made it hard for her to look at him straight after he'd stricken her. It was like one eye was swelling, but she found that she was still immobile, so she wasn't really able to touch her face and check. She knew that blood had trailed down her mouth and was at her chin, now, though. It tasted horrible.

"What else are you hiding about him?" Yfrain wondered, making his way to the cart. He threw the cloth off of it, selecting a long spike that looked not unlike an icicle.

"I'm not hiding anything!" she protested. She wasn't – her memories of him were personal, but they had no bearing on her future with the Empire; or his, for that matter. She told Yfrain as much, but he didn't seem convinced.

"Well, the Emperor doesn't agree," he said glibly. "So if you'd like to leave out of here with the ability to walk when this is over, I suggest you tell me everything you know, from beginning to end."

In response, and in the classiest manner she could manage, Terra declined.

When Yfrain was done wiping the glob of spit from his eye, he swung the spike downward and into the top of her thigh, skillfully missing her main artery by a hair. "I'll let you think about your answer for a while," he said.


	8. Loyalty II

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. I do not profit from this writing.

Author's Note: Yeah, so I borrowed something from the Sword of Truth series. Keep your eyes open and you might notice it!

**Prompt 008**

_Loyalty II_

Kefka straightened suddenly and looked at Celes, who was taking a breather from sparring. She shook her head in between gulps of water, and then finally managed to come 'round to an answer.

"You're kidding, right? My spine will feel that for days," she informed him. "You're the master of the cheap shot."

"No, not that," he said, tone irritated as he waved his hand at her. He turned around in a circle, like he was looking for something. "It's like... I can't explain it. It's like something just dropped off."

"What? Palazzo, you take a blow to the head too hard there? I don't feel anything," she announced. Then she paused - "I don't feel... anything..." she said again, her voice careful and low.

"We need to get back to the palace," he said. "_Now."_

It took a full day and a half for Kefka and Celes to return to the palace. In that time, Terra remained in that room, fielding off a gauntlet of questions that she refused to answer and in turn having radically painful things traded in spades for her silence. The spike had been removed from her leg only because Yfrain didn't want her to get an infection and die from it; he suspected that her magic would heal her no sooner than when the Rada'Han was removed, but he didn't want to chance it. He'd had it cleaned and bandaged, with no anesthetics to speak of, of course.

Then he'd jammed one into her other leg, for sport. It became obvious that she wasn't going to talk, but he couldn't help himself. A girl who could endure that much torture and not break her silence? Or when she did, it was for some strange rhyming gibberish – like she were playing a game with him. It unnerved him, and it made him hit her that much harder.

He'd also taken a crack at her hair, cutting off a large chunk of it. It sent her into a screaming fit that thought might have been the end of it all, but then Gestahl had called him away and he'd not gotten to take it any further. When he was with Gestahl, both Celes _and _ Kefka came into the room at full tilt.

"We can't find Terra," Celes blurted. "Have you seen her? Has she left? Has someone taken her?" Celes may have considered Terra her rival in ever fashion, but Terra was still innocent in her own way, and she would have been a valuable tool if someone had decided they wanted her. How they'd have gotten in and stolen her, Celes hadn't figured, but it wasn't out of the realm of possibilities.

Kefka, however, had zeroed in on Yfrain. "Why are _you_ here?" he demanded. He could feel something under his skin crawling, like thousands of tiny ants. It made his fingers twitch; it made his eye twitch. It did not go unnoticed, either.

"Kefka, are you feeling well?" Gestahl asked. His tone was almost knowing, as though he suspected something was amiss but would not say.

Kefka's eye twitched again, and he had to fight every ounce of his being not to slap himself to make it stop. "I'm fine. I can't find Terra," he said, echoing Celes. Except, instead of posing questions that would get them nowhere, he bluntly followed it with, "Where did you move her?"

"I needed Yfrain to ask her a few questions," Gestahl said after a long, tense silence. He leveled his gaze at Kefka, expression blank. "Is that a problem?"

Kefka raised his hands for a moment in frustration. "There are... so many things wrong with what you just said right now that I don't have time to go over them all. Where is she?" he asked.

For a moment, Gestahl debated on not telling him, but something about the mage's gaze suggested that he wanted to. Gestahl felt compelled. "Yfrain can take you to her. IT WAS FOR THE GOOD OF THE EMPIRE!" he roared as Kefka grabbed Yfrain by the collar and practically threw him out in front.

"Lead," he commanded through clenched teeth. He ignored Gestahl's bellowing behind him, knowing Celes was at his back in case Gestahl decided to wing something off of his desk at the trio. It had been known to happen once or twice.

Yfrain paused at the door. "I need you to understand, Palazzo, Gestahl _ordered_ me to find out what I could." He fumbled with the keys, and for the first time in many years, he felt genuine fear. Kefka had locked his eyes onto Yfrain's own, and Yfrain saw a very tortured man staring down at him rather than a composed but severely angry mage. He, too, felt compelled to confess.

"She didn't talk. Not once. Rhyming nonsense. Screaming. She didn't beg, and she didn't talk. Wouldn't even say your _name_," he hissed. He unlocked the door. "Well?"

"Celes," Kefka said, his voice so dark that it caused the tough-as-nails blonde to shiver a little. "Please see this man is handled."

"Kefka, I don't think -" she began.

"Do it, Celes, or I will, and it will be a far less noble fate," he said. He turned his back to them both and entered the room.

Terra was still in the chair, head lowered. One spike stuck out of her left leg, her right banded by gauze and other cloth. It had bled through, though; in fact, she had little blotches of red all over her dress. She looked like a decoration; all blonde and cream and red and white. She also didn't look alive, which caused Kefka to suppress what would have been a rather loud yell.

"Terra?" he whispered. He approached her slowly, kneeling down next to her. He could see the binding spell hanging over her like a spider's web, and he removed it with the most insignificant gesture that he worried genuinely even further. Terra wouldn't have even been bothered by such a spell; how had this happened?

He reached out gently and lifted her chin up, trying to look into her eyes for any signs of life. If she was dead... He spotted the iron thing around her neck and gritted his teeth together so hard they almost broke. He slid his finger between it and the soft flesh of her throat, running it around to the back of her neck. When he found the clasp, he snapped it open, then threw it with some ferocity at the other side of the room; it shattered as it hit the wall.

"Terra?" he whispered again, this time his voice edging on desperation. He could feel part of himself backsliding, like he were being slowly absorbed into a wall of black nothingness where something dangerous waited, and he could think of all of the uses for that danger when he found it; what he'd do to Yfrain, and Yfrain's wife and children and his city and even that general part of the region.

Her eyes flickered with recognition, though it took several minutes of silence for her to come back around to reality. She felt like her own mind had been half-broken, then. She had been made to endure much in the way of research and testing, but she hadn't experienced pain that wild and raw since the time Kefka'd accidentally blown her sky high a few years ago – and even then, her inherent nature of _being_ wouldn't allow her a slow and painful death; not like what she'd been sitting in the chair doing just then. Rotting away.

Was that what it was to be a human? She wondered. She'd wondered that a lot. She used to envy them; she almost pitied them now.

"Kefka?" she asked, not daring to think it. Was this a dream? Was she going to wake up to a needle in her eye?

"Right here," he promised. He took her hand firmly, placing his free one first on top of the bandages that wrapped around her thigh. He would take care of that one, first, and then the other one – he was going to have to pull that damned thing out. He didn't want to do it, either, but he needed to. "How does this feel?" he asked, putting pressure down on her leg.

"Feels okay," she said softly, finding her words hard to form. She had lowered her head, because it hurt to hold it up. "Not like before. Before it burned."

_Infection_. He couldn't fathom what would have happened if he hadn't have felt that _thing_ wipe her magical signature off of the map. Terra was like a constant blip on his radar; when she just went away, he feared the worst. He'd been right, at least, though he didn't know that he considered it a worthy kind of victory to have.

He put a hand to her face, closing his eyes for a moment. He allowed the magic to pass through him and onto her, mending the delicate structure that Yfrain had worked so hard to destroy. He could see horribly tiny bruises at the base of her eye, in a line directly leading up.

"Better?" he asked.

She nodded, finding it easier to move her neck. "He cut some of my hair off," she confessed to Kefka, feeling small as she said it. She started to cry. She had managed to do very little crying throughout the last few days; she'd screamed, spat, swore, she'd even thought about begging and yes, crying, but in the end she would rather have suffered in a cacophony of her own screams than the alternative.

"I'm sorry, darlin', I can't cure your hair," Kefka said sadly, but he offered her a smile as he tugged on a strand of blonde curls. He saw a flicker of a smile on her face, and gave her cheek a soft pinch. "That's my girl. I've got to mend your other leg, but I need you to understand that this is going to hurt," he warned her. "If you need to scream, you go ahead and do it."

"Okay," she said meekly. She didn't want to scream, and in fact, made a valiant effort not to when he followed through with his word. No lie, it hurt. He wrapped his hand firmly around the spike and yanked it out, trying to make it as quick as possible. Terra caught her own scream in her throat, instead choosing to slam her feet down as hard as she could and dig into his arms with her nails, things she'd been using to support herself. She could feel him flinch under the pressure of her grasp, but then she heard the spike clang to the ground with a loud and metallic noise, and she let go of him.

The healing magic couldn't happen fast enough for her. She nearly swooned, feeling as though she were going to vomit as she felt it literally repairing the gaping hole in her leg. She sank backwards into the chair, trying to breathe in normal, measured breaths but coming up shallow every time. "I want.. to get.. out.. of this.. room," she gulped, feeling like the longer she stayed inside of it the more her mind unraveled. She felt as though she were skirting the edges of madness rather completely right then, actually; had she known how Kefka felt on most days, she might have even succumbed to it, so that he wouldn't have had to be alone. Right then, she'd have done anything for that silly man; and in fact, she had already done much.

By doing the opposite of telling Yfrain, and Gestahl by proxy, _anything_ concerning Kefka, preferring to sing nonsense children's rhymes or to say nothing at all, Terra basically told Gestahl that if she was to be useful to him at all, he'd have to deal with what he suspected to be a very long road of random nonsense from his mage. Kefka's eccentricities had begun to show through in the court; Terra could have given him more insight, or even could have been used as a bargaining chip to straighten him out, but he realized rather quickly that she would find herself in neither of those positions; and actually, was more willing to let herself die than sell Kefka out even for something so stupid as why he'd killed her goddamned Moogle. Truth be told, Gestahl didn't care why he'd killed the Moogle; he'd have killed the nasty thing, too. Damned rats with wings. The point was, if she wouldn't even tell him something so stupid as that, he was _never_ going to find anything else out.

He'd have to figure out a way to use Celes and Leo to his advantage in that area, because Terra was just useless to him at that point. He'd have to keep Kefka happy in order to see any results from her. He'd cope with it for now, but he'd find a way out of that damned bargain soon enough.

But right then, none of that was on Kefka's mind. He was still reeling from the notion that all of this had started on a question that played a pivotal role in their relationship. She'd only been a little girl when that had happened, and she'd still never forgiven him for it (he thought). Regardless, as far as he was concerned, she had ever reason to have told them everything she knew. They'd interpret what they wanted how they wanted, and then he'd have come back and been ambushed (or so they thought; Kefka wasn't the damned first mage for nothing). He bit his lip as he watched Terra sleeping, and tugged the covers up over her shoulders a little more.

Even a young woman now and she still resorted to some of the default behaviour of a child. He'd taken her to his room, where she'd asked to go, because she felt safe there. She'd taken (surprisingly) a doll from his shelf that he'd had since she was a child. He'd collected them before, but they'd been packed away for a long time and someone had unearthed them and brought them to him. He'd put them on a shelf in spite of himself, because he still liked them. Terra said they were creepy; he hoped they ignored her rudeness. The doll she'd taken though, was one in particular she hated, but one he actually considered a favourite. It was a thin-bodied clown, stuffed with soft fluff. Its outfit was colourful like a tropical bird, and it had a big smile and arms outstretched for a hug. He was pretty sure it'd been one of the first toys he'd ever gotten, and how it'd made it _that_ far in _that_ good of condition he'd never know. To say he was surprised when he'd come back from putting the fear of the gods into Gestahl to find her asleep with it tucked under her chin as though it would protect her from harm was a gross understatement.

His door open softly and Celes stuck her head in. "Hey," she whispered. "She out?" With a confirmation from Kefka that she wouldn't wake Terra up, Celes came into his room more. She started when she saw the doll, and pointed at it. "Really?" she whispered, brows lofting. She surveyed the shelf in the far corner of the room, and then gave Kefka a very flat look. It plainly said, "I do not understand you. I do not want to."

He chose to ignore her poor taste for the time being. "What happened?" he asked. It was a nicer way of asking for a report than just saying, "Report."

Celes made a face. "He's not going to be doing anymore of Gestahl's secret torture chamber crap, if that's what you mean," she responded, her voice still barely a whisper. "I gave him a lot to think about."

Kefka shook his head. "Unless you hung him up in a bag of his own skin, you didn't do nearly the damage necessary to get my point across," he hissed.

"Okay – gross, first, and second, he's not ever going to walk again, so I think I did okay," she shot back. "Anyways, how is she? Looks like she's doing better, at least."

Kefka snorted. "Because I have a ridiculous stock in healing magic. If we hadn't have come back when we did... " he closed his eyes for a moment. He looked aged, suddenly, and tired. He wasn't but thirty, if that – Celes couldn't be sure, but he didn't _look_ old. He had youthful features, though, so she didn't know.

"But we did. You did," she reminded him. She placed a hand on his shoulder, giving him a rough pat. Celes couldn't echo his sentiment, or she'd have to consider what had actually happened. She didn't want to try and picture it. "So let's stop worrying. And anyways, as I understand it, she wouldn't even tell them your name. They already know your name. But she kept it like it was a precious treasure. That's loyalty if I've ever seen it. That girl... " she trailed off, shaking her head. Celes couldn't imagine a devotion that strong; she was devoted to her magic, to her duty, but to another person? Not likely.

He nodded. "I don't know if it was worth it. I hate to say that I don't think it was," he admitted.

Celes gave him a funny look, and then reached out and popped him gently on the back of the head. When he gave her a rather incredulous stare, she spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, her voice more clear than before but still soft.

"It doesn't matter what _you_ think. It was clearly worth it to her." She paused. "I don't know what's going on. I don't pretend to," she began, alluding to the fact that she knew he'd been having little episodes (okay, big ones, but she hadn't technically been there for some of them, only heard about them). "But she's trying to tether your feet to this world as best she can. Don't make it for nothing, Kefka. I promise. It's worth it."

He had nothing good to say in response. Celes had her moments of utter teenage stubbornness where one could forget that she could level a field of men with only a few well-equipped weapons and spells. But occasionally, like right then, his second protege had moments of wisdom so wholly pure and right that it made him want to smack her in the face for even opening his head to the ideas she gave him. It pained him to think that whatever was happening, Terra was fighting against with every ounce of her being. And he was just... tripping the rift, circling the drain. Waiting to go down the rabbit hole. He was as good as quitting on her.

They remained in eachother's silence for a while, Celes feeling strangely better and worse about what she'd finally been able to say, standing vigilant behind him as he sat in a chair by the bed. Finally, she broke his no-doubt horribly brooding thoughts when she leaned down and whispered in his ear, "Okay, what the hell is up with that _thing_ she's holding onto?"

"Visiting hours are over!" he hissed, dragging her to the door as she stifled laughter with her hand so she didn't wake Terra up.


	9. Beginning

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. I do not profit from this writing.

Author's Note: This is, in part, for Aozorain, who wondered about how Kefka began wearing the makeup. I suppose it's my own twisted interpretation of it, so I hope you enjoy one of the many different ideas I had.

**Prompt 009**

_Beginning_

An eleven-year old Terra sat on a stool, gentle gaze carefully browsing the small pots and jars lain out before her on the vanity. She looked very serious about her choices, and Kefka inwardly wondered what he'd signed himself up for.

Gestahl had wanted to throw some stupid and elaborate costume party for his birthday. Kefka didn't know how old the man was, but he certainly didn't believe whatever number he'd been told, and furthermore he saw no reason to stop what he'd been working on to attend an idiotic party. That was, of course, until Terra caught wind of it.

"A masquerade?" she'd squawked.

That was all the encouragement it had taken _her_. What could he expect, though, really? She may have been a magnificent creature of myth and modern-day wonder, but she was still a girl (she'd never not be girlish, even if she cut her hair off and donned men's clothing) and she was still a child in many ways. She had begun to brainstorm about all of the possible things they could be, and that had been Kefka's last protest about the attendance of the party.

"I hate to interrupt, but do you think you could tell me what it is you're doing?" he asked. She was facing him, face twisted into a very stern expression, a particular jar raised as her fingers swiped into its contents.

"No," she replied. She reached out and globbed something on his face. "It's a surprise."

"Terra, how am I supposed to know what to wear if you won't tell me what I'm going to be?" he protested. Something inside him, very quietly, demanded to know why _she_ always had control of the situation when she was just a child and half his size. He brushed the thoughts off as nothing, though it did bother him that he ever thought like that at all to begin with. He gave Terra the reigns to do whatever she pleased, and she regarded that carefully despite only still being a child. She was wise beyond her years.

"Oops," he heard her say. He regretted his last sentiment as he watched her look down at her smock, where she'd dumped glitter on herself. His floor had also fallen victim.

"Great. It's going to look like a pixie threw up in here," he remarked, though his tone lacked any bitterness.

"Sorry," she said, cheeks flushing with a hint of colour. "But it was a necessary sacrifice," she informed him. "Glitter was getting' too close to my other stuff. Wouldn't wait its turn. Had to go." She nodded.

He had gawked at her reasoning; she was applying things she'd heard _him_ say about incredibly brutal skirmishes to her child's play. He didn't know whether to shake her or hug her, but at the moment he couldn't do either or else she'd say he was "disrupting her work" and this ordeal would begin again, as it had twice now. He had no idea face-painting was such an involved process.

"Hmmmmmm... I don't know if I like this," she said after a long span of silence. She'd switched between her hands and had moved on to a brush that tickled him and made his face twitch, but he'd endured because he'd _promised_. Terra would be utterly unmanageable if he'd tried to go back on his word, as he had seen once when she was four and he'd attempted to leave for a few days before having "tea" with her.

"Well, you tried," he said, thankful that it was over. "I can wash it off and then we can go."

"Hold it!" she said, pointing the brush at his face in a menacing manner. "Not so fast. I have an idea." She narrowed her eyes at him, and then grabbed a tube of lipstick from the stash on the counter. He grimaced. She was going to cross-dress him. He should have known. He'd gone this far without having to be subject to one of those puffy dresses, it should only be fair that now he'd be stuck wearing one. At least he wouldn't be alone – most of the men who were attending had no ideas for costumes and so he deeply suspected the party would be very curiously ambiguous.

She dabbed it on his mouth first, and then dragged it to the left and to the right. She seemed proud of herself for a moment, and then made a horrible face. "I think I did _too_ well," she said slowly, her hand to her chin, wiping red and white onto her face by accident.

"Why? Can I see now?" he asked, trying to crane his head around so he could see the mirror. She'd made him sit with his back to it, and she had been careful not to get up so he couldn't peek, either.

"I think I made you too scary and not so funny," she trailed, letting him see himself.

"Good god, Terra! I thought you hated clowns!" he exclaimed, shocked. She'd done a very good job of thoroughly coating his face in that stuff (he prayed he wasn't going to have an allergic reaction to it) but it was _too_ good a job. He didn't look like a silly, fun clown. He looked like he wanted to killmurderkill, in that order.

"I think it's the smile," she said, teeth bared in a sneer-smile at her work. "I think I went too far."

He looked like a slasher victim. He kind of liked it. It appealed to his darker sense of humour, actually, quite a bit. Clowns were supposed to be funny, right? Nobody ever expected one to be a serial killer. He leaned closer and examined his face, turning his head left and right. The smile definitely did it.

"Do you want to start over?" he asked. "We still have time."

"No," she said honestly. "Too scary is okay for this, I think." She was still looking at him with that expression on her face, the what-did-I-create stare.

"If it really bothers you, I'll wash it off," he offered. He still had no idea what he was going to wear, so going as a psychotic killer clown (maybe even from outer space, if he played his cards right) wasn't something he was totally committed to.

She grinned, crossing her arms. She still had that paint on her own face, and she looked adorable. Of course, she didn't have to try hard for that. "No, it's fine. Besides, I still know it's you in there," she said with a 'duh' tone to her voice. "You look freaky, but you're still my Kefka. As long as I know that, I'm not gonna get scared."

"Not even a little?" he asked. He lunged for her, and Terra let out a shrill shriek as she tried to dart away, laughing madly. In the end, Terra had managed to evade him long enough to find him the rest of his costume (a colourful number that she said made him look like a 'scary rainbow'). Terra went as (what else) a princess, and the duo had much fun and adventure and the night turned out to be mostly tolerable, especially when Terra convinced him to dance.

He had no idea how important her words had been, then or ever; it was like she knew, on some level, that she would lose him. He didn't consider it until much later, when she was already scared and he was no longer hers.


	10. Interruption

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. I do not profit from this writing.

Author's Note: This is part of the What If series.

**Prompt 010**

_Interruption_

_If Celes had gone crazy instead of Kefka._

"GET OUT!"

Twenty-year old Terra Branford ducked swiftly as a vase the size of her head shattered against the door she'd yanked shut behind her. Magic crackled at her fingertips as she fought every urge not to go back in there and wipe the floor with Celes, who was physically her match in almost every way. But no, something was wrong, and it wasn't just her attitude. It was her – everything. Everything about her was misaligned somehow, out of balance. Terra was going to try again tomorrow, as she always did, putting her misplaced anger aside for the moment. She couldn't blame Celes for acting the way she did.

She went to Kefka's room and shut the door behind herself with a click. She looked disheveled enough that he noticed, but he didn't come to greet her just yet. He was busy trying to feed her Moogle (_her_ pet, not his – how had he gotten stuck with this task?) and losing. The creature spat whatever it was back out at him and he set his jaw in frustration.

"Here, let me," she said. She was happy to be rid of Celes for the moment. All progress had ground to a halt with her since she'd started going batty, and every day Kefka and Terra tried to work with Cid to find a way to stop it. It was getting them nowhere. She lifted the Moogle from him, making noises at it and speaking to it softly.

"Are you giving him a hard time? Huh? Are you? Are you Angel-baby?" she cooed.

Kefka brushed himself off. "Ugh, its fur gets on _everything_," he griped, trying in vain to wipe the white strands out of his dark clothing. He made a horrible face as he realized some of the fur had gotten into his mouth, and spit a few times as he tried to find the water pitcher to remedy his ailment.

"Stop," Terra chided. "You're acting like a child."

"Oh, that's rich coming from _you_," he countered, finding that pitcher and pouring water in his mouth. He spat inelegantly into a waste bin, then wiped his mouth ungracefully with the back of his hand. The Moogle was staring at him, and he narrowed his brilliant blue eyes back at it. "Isn't that thing getting old yet? It still eats like it did the day you brought him home."

"Oh, I think someone's jealous," she sang, her back to him now as she coaxed it to take a few nuts from her hand. It stuffed them into its mouth as it watched the conversation between them, totally aware it was being discussed but thrilled to be the center of attention, regardless of the negativity that the talk was gaining.

Kefka paused in mid-turn, turning his head slowly at her until he craned his neck as far as it would go. "This is my doubtful face," he informed her. "Do you see? Do you see how untrue that is?" She laughed at him, only half-glancing over her shoulder to see his display. "It's physically impossible for me to be jealous of a rat with wings," he added.

Terra smiled to herself, dancing a little in place as she played with the animal. He was totally jealous. She found it endlessly amusing, too, because the Moogle got just as jealous. Both of them vied for her attention through different methods, but they would attack each other to do it. She knew the Moogle was smart enough to get out the window when it needed to go to the bathroom; why it kept urinating directly under Kefka's desk was obviously a warning for him to stay away from Terra.

At the same time, Kefka found it in himself to subject the Moogle to multiple baths, claiming the animal smelled bad. She'd come in no less than four times the past month to find the thing shaking and terrified under the far corner of the bed that neither of them could reach after Kefka had chased it with a towel, knocking over everything of value in the room in his path.

He was behind her then, a hand on her shoulder as he rested his chin the top of her head. "How is she?" he ventured. He felt Terra stiffen slightly when he asked, and he instantly felt bad for doing it. He gave her a light squeeze.

"She's... not any better," Terra said finally, taking her hands from the Moogle in favour of crossing her arms. The creature fluffed itself and then darted down the table and jumped off, catching one of its small stuffed toys in its paws and retiring to a lump of blankets at the foot of the bed to chew on it. Terra kept her back to him for as long as it took her to sigh heavily, and then she turned to face him – although face wasn't really the word, since he was a good six inches taller than she was. She didn't mind though.

"She threw a vase at me," she ventured. "That beats staring out the window and screaming like a lunatic, right? Or arranging everything in her room from shortest to tallest? Or how about when she tried to set me on _fire_? Or _you_, for that matter?" she asked.

"Oh, Terra," he said softly.

"Oh, Terra, nothing," she said, trying to shake off the emotion she felt in her chest; that familiar seizing sensation she got when she felt like she might cry. "She isn't the only friend I have. Wasn't. I don't know." She put her hands to her face for a moment, trying to compose her thoughts. She hated it when he was around for her to get emotional. She always felt like a child. "And besides, I almost let her have it," she added bitterly. It made her feel a little better to know that despite the two fusions the Empire had pulled off, she could still put the hurt on either one of them (although Kefka wasn't as wild as Celes was, so he put up a much better fight).

"It's perfectly alright for you to be upset, Terra," he said firmly. "She's my friend, too. I trained her – how do you think _I_ feel?" he pointed out. Kefka was shouldering a lot of the blame unnecessarily; they'd _all_ pushed her in their own rights, but it was ultimately Gestahl who had ignored them when they told him something was wrong. And he'd made them push her harder, and now she was slipping off into insanity slowly.

She took his hands in her own, looking up at him with her lips pursed for a moment. "We'll just try again tomorrow," she said. "I can handle a few objects being thrown my way."

"Cid got the living daylights shocked out of him," Kefka informed her, drawing her arms around him for a hug. "I suspect she's going to want to leave her room eventually. The wards are only going to hold as long as it takes for her to rip through them when she decides she doesn't want to be in there anymore."

"Then we're all in trouble," Terra sighed, closing her eyes. She really didn't want to be part of the group that had to snuff Celes out. Gestahl would undoubtedly employ she and Kefka to do it, and damn if she didn't hate him for it.

"No, but then she's going to force our hand. She's not unstoppable, Terra, you and I know that; we caught it in time. Even if we were told to go harder on her, we did still hold back. Gestahl's too dumb to know that, but you know it and I know it. It's going to be difficult, and probably very painful, but we'll manage." He bowed his head to drop a kiss on her hair.

"I just keep thinking that this could have happened to you," she said, her mouth twisting into a frown. "I mean, keep thinking isn't even the right word for what I do – I can't _stop_. It keeps me awake at night, wondering if this is what happens to people who are fused, and if that's true than how much time do we have before _you_ start to lose it?"

Kefka pulled away from her so quickly that it startled her, and he gave her a very severe look. "Is that what you think is going to happen? Terra, I wish you wouldn't worry about things like that. Listen, I'm a little too stable for something to just sideline me and push me off of my rocker completely. You know that," he scolded her gently.

"She was normal, too," Terra said, her eyes stinging a little as she felt that pressure in her chest rise. If she cried, she would absolutely not forgive herself. She had worked very hard to keep everyone around her under the opinion she wasn't a little girl; crying blew that theory to hell and back.

He saw that arguing with her was useless, and so he dropped down to one knee and shook her hands until she looked at him. "Stop," he said. "I hate it when you cry, it makes me feel useless. We're going to figure this out, Terra. You're strong, and I'm strong, and I'm sure we're not too late to help Celes. It's just going to take more than a few weeks of work. We've got a long road ahead of us, but I want you to understand that I'm _not_ going to go down that path. I dealt with my demons a long time ago. You made me, if you remember." he added with a wry twist of his mouth.

Terra stared at him, studying his face. Kefka may have had his quirks, but when he wanted to be serious, he pulled it off rather nicely. She nodded. "Okay," she said softly. She loosened one of her hands from his to lay it against his cheek, where she could feel fine stubble. "My wise Kefka," she whispered, a smile breaking through her pensive and worried features. She leaned in for a kiss, but was caught in the face by something fluffy instead.

The Moogle chose that exact moment to wedge itself between them, back to Kefka as it tried to climb up Terra's chest to get to her shoulder. "Ugh, I got fur in my mouth!" she exclaimed, staggering back as the Moogle took smug victory for its timely interruption. From behind the closed door, a servant wandering down the corridor observed a cry of frustration from a male voice, but felt no need to intervene when the mirthful and rather enthusiastic laughter of a feminine voice drowned it out.


	11. Party

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. I do not profit from this writing.

Author's Note: This is part of the What If series.

**Prompt 011**

_Party_

_If Celes had gone crazy instead of Kefka._

_From the journal of Terra Palazzo; March 19th_

Today is Celes' fourth birthday! Kefka has a ridiculously ornate party planned, somehow having wrangled Leo into dressing up like a _clown_ of all things. Leo, however, absolutely adores our little girl, so I don't foresee it being an issue. "Uncle Leo" is a rather popular household name when he is here, which I do wish would be more frequent. Since Leo took the crown, the Empire has made a turn towards a brighter and significantly less violent future. Gestahl's reign of terror ended only four years prior, and while I suppose I was too consumed by my own affairs to realize it, the Empire really had begun to slide quickly downhill. Leo has turned all of that around, though; we have valuable rapport with other lands now that isn't based solely on fear and intimidation or promises of nightmarish magics.

The gap between the mystical world and ours remains mostly closed still; Espers have begun to re-emerge, albeit very, very slowly, from the gate. We offer them safety, now; none of us have forgotten my past, nor that of my husband nor the adult Celes, and we strive very hard to maintain the trust that the Empire before us broke so long ago. It does sadden me to think of parents that I did not know, but some of the Espers who have emerged have been willing to share with me their knowledge. I do understand a general sense of disappointment in me – or perhaps it is misplaced and lies instead with my father – but some that have been willing to speak more candidly assure me that I was loved as much as my parents were capable of loving me. That's all I really suppose matters, in the end.

I do write this entry with sadness in my heart that is not reserved for just my own shortcomings as an Esper-Human hybrid; this also marks the fourth year of the passing of my darling daughter's namesake. It pains me immensely to think that she will never meet her Auntie Celes, though she has heard all sorts of fantastical tales of her bravery even now. Kefka has insisted to begin at the beginning, although at my request he has edited some of the details down to simple, meaningful phrases that don't leave her wondering if she will be tortured by some crazed mechanic in her sleep. A mother's work is not complete if she has not sat up for several nights a month with a child convinced that there is something in the closet or under the bed (despite having locked the closet and put a gentle mage-light under the bed).

Little Celes is an endless source of curiosity for most who reside within the palace still. She is every bit as unique as I am or as Kefka is; one-quarter Esper and something else entirely. I attempted to sit down and do the math to determine what she _is_ when a particularly curious Esper requested it of me, but such a fine definition seems to bother Kefka; he says that she is a child, and that is _all_ that she is, and that is _all_ that anyone needs to know of the matter. I wonder sometimes if he is too protective of her, but perhaps that my own foolish nature telling me that things will be okay so long as we do not make the mistakes of our past again. Given what we are building up and away from, he does have a reason to be so private about her; he is more battle-hardened than I and thus I let him operate his own way in terms of her safety. Arguing with him is... pointless.

I have just been notified now that the two princes of Figaro will be arriving shortly. I am grateful for their support considering what became of their own kingdom in the past due to my Empire's actions. Gestahl has once again proven himself to be useless in everything save destruction, and even that in the end did him no good as one of the very creatures he forced to be produced slew him with his own wants and desires. I recall how swiftly the Magitek armor could reduce a man to ashes; seeing it first hand is not a sight that will soon leave my memories. But I digress... Edgar and Sabin have been the pinnacles of integrity now that Leo has taken the throne. Perhaps it is because our new king has the wisdom to back up his ideals, I wonder? I was but a child when Gestahl had a hand in dismantling their family, but I know enough to know their presence is meaningful.

I cannot help but be eternally curious of what lady Edgar will have accompanying him this visit. In the past, he tried his flattery with even myself, but it had no impact on me. Perhaps I am not normal; I have seen my share of women fall victim to his charms, married or otherwise, but to me he is just Edgar, handsome and silly and ambitious. Kefka has found this a thing of great wonder, as even he saw fit to tease me about Edgar's wiles. Perhaps my husband is on the market for another lesson about how I can better focus my attention elsewhere and away from him. I do believe it is time I have another Moogle; I think Celes is old enough now that she can appreciate the care one requires so long as I'm thorough with teaching her.

He's never gotten over his aversion to those things. He's lucky I developed an allergy when I was pregnant, or I would have surrounded myself with them if only for the sake of annoying him to get even for my horribly round state of being. I do realize now that he did not exaggerate about their shedding issue, though. I actually had to change rooms due to how much of it had gotten embedded into the nooks and crannies of the old room; even a decently proportioned cleansing spell could not rid the room of _all_ of the loose fur.

The day draws on, and still more guests arrive. I must stop now, as Celes is demanding to put her dress on for the party. It's a beautiful thing, made of the lightest lavender coloured silk. It makes her blue eyes seem almost indigo in the light. It figures she'd get his eyes; they are easily her most-complimented feature. I do hope she got _my_ wit, though, or she's doomed to a life of silly puns and the laugh reminiscent of a plains-beast. I do love her father, but he does not come without his... quirks.

I shall make another entry soon. I am sure there will be much to discuss after this pastel-themed ordeal has ended.


	12. Give Up

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. I do not profit from this writing.

_This takes place in the future supposing that Kefka did not succeed in killing Leo, and was captured, the battle being won shortly after. A new Emporer is in place and the land is slowly being rebuilt._

**Prompt 011**

_Give Up_

Terra stands at the base of a tall tower, fingers splayed over the door. She closes her eyes, sensing the heavy magical warding that a team of mages has carefully put in place to contain the creature within. She ignores the cold wintery wind as it whips her mint-coloured hair around her face, stinging her eyes with every gust.

"You come here every day, Terra, and yet nothing. No results. The Empire is barely being rebuilt still, and yet you waste all your resources on this venture," Leo says, his voice stern. He has been dragged out of bed in the pre-dawn blizzard for this, because Celes has ordered that Terra never go to the tower alone.

"Then go, and leave me to it," she says harshly. She opens the door, unflinching as the wind tears the handle from her grip and slams it against the inside wall with a deafening bang. She walks past Leo without so much as a glance in his direction, proceeding into the base of the tower on her own. In spite of his irritation, Leo follows her in.

"I'll be waiting down here out of the cold," he snaps at her. He tugs a flask from its place in the pocket of his long woolen cloak and unscrews it, then drops down into a seated position at the base of the long, winding staircase Terra has already begun to climb.

With a gesture as she climbs, the torches closest to Leo flare up, spreading warmth through the otherwise cold and bleak entrance. "Get comfortable," she says as she ascends, the words loud enough for him to hear, but said at a tone to suggest she didn't care whether he had or not. She intends to spend more time this day than the others.

The closer to the room at the top of the tower she draws, the more obvious the magical wards are. They are heavy and oppressive, giving her the sensation as though she is walking through water. She finds it hard to continue, as she always does, when she reaches the final ten steps. She grips the railing much more tightly then before, and stumbles as she takes the last step from fatigue.

She can hear him inside the room. He knows she is outside. He knew when she entered the tower, of course – all the wards in the world couldn't break the bond they shared. More specifically, the bond Terra and Kefka shared – this thing that was in his body, speaking with his voice and using his limbs – this was _not_ Kefka. This was something evil that had taken him over, and Terra would not be swayed into thinking that just because it had come into possession of his body did not mean it could not lose its hold of him just the same. She simply hadn't found a way to do it, yet.

A low laughter starts at first, so quiet she almost can't hear it. By the time she has arrived at the door, the laughter is echoing off the walls, loud – like a hyena, hollow and rich at the same time. It is the laughter of a madman, that much can be heard without knowing who was doing the laughing.

"Good morning, Kefka," she says to the bars on the door.

The laughter stops for a moment, and then hands shoot out, grabbing at her. There are no words to accompany his violence, just a gnashing of teeth and a sputtering of crazed noise. Terra steps swiftly away, fully anticipating this reaction. The hands clench frantically at air, and then recess back into the darkened room behind the door. After a few seconds, the shadow of his face appears. The torches along the stairs light up the angles, giving his blue eyes a sinister sort of glow to them.

"Back away from the door," she commands, her voice taking a strength to it that the creature he has become is still not familiar with.

As she comes into the room, several wisps of mage-light conjure above her, moving to line the top of the room like a series of lanterns, illuminating the room enough to give them a bath of warm amber and white light. Kefka, who has darted away into the far reach of the room, regards her with a suspicious expression. He is clearly debating on whether or not to attack her, as she, nor anyone else, has set foot in the room since his capture. They slid food in through a panel at the bottom of a door, and the wards or other conjurings did the rest of the work.

Terra waits only for a few heartbeats, then advances on him. She has such power that he hesitates to attack her, and so she uses this to her advantage. She makes a hard grab for his hand quickly before he can pull away, and speaks a few words that she has spent hours memorizing. She has no idea how long the spell will last for, or if it will work at all, but she is desperate, and through her voice it resonates in volume. Her chanting is harsh, dominant, controlled. There is a pulse of light quick and so bright that it forces her to release his hand as she shields her own eyes. She cries out and backs away instinctively in case it has failed, reaching for a knife hidden in her boot.

When she opens her eyes again, she immediately releases her knife. Kefka is on the ground, resting on his knees. His face is pale; the make-up has long since been washed off, revealing his true features. He looks tired, with dark circles under his eyes. His long, dark blonde hair is disheveled, and there is dirt beneath his fingernails, things that are cracked and broken in spots due to his clawing at the walls in fits of uncontrollable rage.

He looks up at her, an expression of pure despair in his watery blue eyes. "Terra?" he says, his voice barely a whisper. It is nothing that could have made the sounds he previously made, rabid and frenzied; nothing like the voice he has spoken with for years that was tainted by madness and often used for howling or screaming.

"Kefka?" she gasps, her determination replaced by total and utter shock – shock that causes her to feel dizzy. The spell had worked; for however long or short the duration, she had been able to quell the madness inside Kefka.

She finds she can't support her own weight anymore, and falls to her knees before him. He is so much taller than she, even when neither of them are standing. She chokes back a sob and grabs him, burying her face into his chest, ignoring how thin he has become. She says something, but her words are lost to her crying, and she is in so much duress that she is shaking violently against him.

His hands are hesitant to touch her, as his mind struggles to understand what has happened. The madness, the dark desires and urges he could no longer control – they were gone. He feels it inside of him somewhere, but he is unsure as to why it has gone except that Terra had obviously done something to make it cease. As gently as he can, he wraps his arms around her, resting his forehead atop her own. "Please don't cry," he says, his throat stressed and causing his words to come out in a harsh whisper.

"Please, Terra, don't cry," he repeats, unsure of what else to say. He wants to say so many things, but he doesn't know where to begin. He's been the second party to his own body as the demon he'd become nearly wiped out the entire world, nevermind all of the friends he had known and the only sort of family he'd ever had. He doesn't know how to apologize for that; he doesn't think he _can_.

"I'm so sorry," she bursts out, taking him by surprise. "I had to lock you up, because I knew that one day I would find a way to cure your madness. I found this spell, but it's only temporary, and I know it's not enough, but I just miss you so much," she cries, her words falling over themselves as she struggles to spit them out between sobs. "Celes and Leo said to kill you would be just, to end your misery, but I wouldn't let them. I couldn't – I couldn't let them. I knew you were in there somewhere, if I just kept _trying_," she continues.

Kefka has to grip her shoulders tightly to stop her, which he is finally able to do. "Terra, please, it's okay," he says. "I understand why they feel that way... I've done so much..." he trails off. He doesn't want to even consider all of the horrors he's personally seen to, because he is trying to be strong. He feels as though he is assuming an old role, as though he is protecting Terra, despite the fact that she has essentially confessed to protecting him.

"How long does this spell last for?" he asks, his mind racing as he tries to determine what he must do to try and fix some of the damage he has caused.

"Minutes, maybe. Not long at all. I just had to try," she says, pulling away from him. She found it hard to look into his eyes. Something inside of him had hurt her so badly, and yet the man before her was _not_ that something. The man before her was Kefka – her caretaker, the man she loved – the man for whom she would have done anything, had he only asked it of her. It broke her heart to even consider it the hell he had been trapped in while his duality essentially destroyed everything he had ever wanted or loved in his lifetime – and likewise hers.

"Then please, don't spend the short time we have in remorse for what never was," he says softly, tipping her chin up to focus her flitting gaze on him. "Please," he says again. His voice is coming back to him, with more bass and steadiness – so much like the last time he had been lucid.

"I don't know what to do," she confesses. She rearranges herself, scrubbing her eyes with her hands to try and wipe the tears away. "I don't know how to speak to you. We have so little time -" she begins. He cuts her off with a wave.

"Just tell me... tell me everything. Tell me what I've missed," he says. He shifts his body around so that he is seated next to her. "Don't worry about how much time you have. Just talk to me." He gives her a smile, an expression that she hasn't seen in so long, and he reminds her of how charming and full of life he was once before the thing inside of him had split him in two.

"Okay," she says, her voice warbling. "We have a new emperor, elected by the kingdom as a whole. Leo is practically his right hand, while Celes offers as both magic expert and Leo's second. I'm up there, too, though I've been preoccupied since we've returned," she says, referring to Kefka.

"Don't let me eat up all of your time," he tells her, crooking a brow. He feels a shudder wrack his body, and a nauseous sensation comes on. He lays down and rests his head on her lap, closing his eyes as he feels her hand immediately drop as her fingers brush through his hair. Her touch was as gentle as he remembered.

"That's what Leo and Celes say," she informs him with a heavy sigh. "But it's hard. I have so much power and I can't find any way to -" she stops for a moment, then shakes her head. "Celes has a child, now," she offers. "With a rather interesting fellow that she married. You would like him – you would like them all, Kefka," she adds.

"Tell me more. Do you still have those horrible little animals?" he presses, gritting his teeth as a wave of pain flashes through him. He is able to hide it from Terra, but he is aware that the spell she has used to contain the darkness within him is wearing thin.

"Of course," she replies, a fond smile on her face. "I had hoped to raise them alongside a child, since they live so long. They could bond as they grew together. I let Celes' daughter play with them, but it's not the same. I wanted to have my own some day, but – " She stops again, looking away. "But I have decided not to have a family."

"Why not?" he asks, his blue eyes popping open as he turns his head to look at her. He already knows the answer, but he asks anyways, hoping that she will say something else.

"Because I only love you," she whispers. "And nobody can replace that hole that you left in my heart." Her eyes water up again, and she closes them, long lashes nearly touching her cheeks.

He sits up abruptly, gripping down on her arms as he takes them. He clenches his teeth again as a flicker of strange, racing thoughts pulse through him, but pushes through it. He knows the spell is losing its hold; the room becomes inverted in colour, and he starts to catch glimpses of dead bodies and blood littered around them. "The spell is wearing off," he tells her, his voice obviously laboured. "Listen to me, Terra. Promise me. Promise me you'll move on. Forget me, and go start a life. Be happy. Get married – or don't. Have a kid; adopt one - adopt ten! Make a home, start a family – you can even name one after me if it makes you happy, and I know it'll piss Celes off if you do. But don't wait for me. Don't waste away waiting for me, my sweet girl. I'm as good as dead."

"I don't want to give up on you," she says, fighting back her tears.

This causes him to smile. "But you must, my love." He manages to loosen his grip on her, and starts to stand. "You need to go, Terra. The spell is wearing off. I can feel it. I'm starting to -" he pauses, unwilling to confess to her the hallucinations that plagued him. He begins backing away from her.

"Fight!" she commands, rushing forward and grabbing his arms. "Please, Kefka! For me, please! Fight back!" she begs.

Kefka shuts his eyes tightly, trying to block out the blood and the bodies. The voice is starting in his head, chattering about _the doll the doll the doll she's back let's keep her forever yes perfect perfect_ and he forcefully pushes the green-haired girl off of him, ignoring the sinking feeling in his chest as he does so.

"I did fight back," he whispers. "For almost sixteen years. It's time to let go, now, Terra."

For a moment, Terra is frozen, unsure of what to do – and then he tosses his head back and begins to laugh.

_Stupid crying dolldolldolldoll imperfect doll need to fix need to teach doll a lesson stupidstupid_

Terra covers her mouth with her hand and looks away for a moment, trying to stabilize herself, collect her thoughts. She realizes that he's truly gone this time, and that as painful as this was for her, that he was to be trapped inside that body with that insanity dominating him for the rest of his life, living with madness, his only thoughts the guilt of what he had done. Kefka had told her he was as good as dead, and truthfully, he was. She was struggling to come to terms with this, but she knew she must. She knew it was the only way.

The wild laughing and babbling has stopped and Kefka's form lunges for Terra suddenly, a stolen knife in his hand – presumably grabbed from her when Kefka had pushed her away – only to be stopped short by a violent flash of red light. He falls to the ground in a heap. Terra cries out in rage and kicks the knife away from him, then falls to her knees next to the body and lowers her head, covering her face as she continues to scream and sob.

She does this until she feels that she has no energy left.

"Goodbye, my Kefka," she finally says, her voice almost inaudible from screaming. She leans over and kisses his lips, a brush of skin on skin that is almost chaste in its softness and brevity, and then she exits the room without looking back.

As she reaches Leo at the bottom of the stairs, she wipes her face again, knowing that her eyes will still betray her tears.

"Are you okay?" he asks in a tired, but concerned voice, as he stands and turns to meet her.

She looks away for a moment, then meets his eyes. "No," she says truthfully. "No, I don't think I am."


End file.
